


Olympics at Alder Run

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [130]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-26
Updated: 2008-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-05 06:09:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4168902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The guys play their own games.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Olympics at Alder Run

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback: Is treasured at merryamelie@aol.com (or leave a comment).
> 
> Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
> 
> For  
> My beta team: Nerowill, Emila-Wan, and Carol  
> Mali Wane for posting  
> My former betas: Alex, Ula, and Padawan Sue

"What a finish!" Quinn grabbed Ian in an enthusiastic bear hug.  
  
Quinn and Ian roared along with Team USA when they won the team bronze in men's gymnastics. When Quinn sat back on the couch, Ian sprawled over Quinn's lap, looking up at him with a big grin.  
  
Quinn ran his fingers through Ian's copper hair. "Reminds me of that picture your mom gave me. You know, the one where you're holding your NCAA gold medal."  
  
"Yeah. I was lucky that year in high bar." Ian nuzzled into Quinn's stomach.  
  
"Lucky? Right!" Quinn snorted. "Remember, I've seen you in action."  
  
Ian chuckled. "And if you get lucky tonight, you'll see me in action again." He kissed the little patch of skin revealed where Quinn's shirt had ridden up.  
  
Quinn's eyes gleamed in the light from the screen. "Better than the Olympics, laddie."  
  
Ian winked. "Our favorite event."  
  
Quinn looked thoughtful as he gazed at the US team beaming with their medals. "Did you ever think of trying for the Olympics?"  
  
Ian sighed. "Yes, but I couldn't do it to my folks." He pressed into Quinn's warmth.  
  
"When I was in high school, I had to make a choice. Coach wanted me to train at an elite academy in San Francisco, but I decided against it..." Ian trailed off.  
  
"That's a tough decision for a kid to make." Quinn's fingers whispered through his hair as if it were spun gold.  
  
Ian nodded into his husband's shirt. "Would've split up our family. Dad might have found a job out there, but talk about dicey. And I couldn't see Mom and me being happy by ourselves."  
  
"Sounds like you all would've been miserable."  
  
"And we couldn't have afforded it, even on scholarship. It's major money for years. They'd still be in debt, unless I managed to get a medal."  
  
"Don't know how anyone does it." The empathy in Quinn's eyes made him look even more handsome.  
  
"Mmm-hmm. At least this way, I was able to concentrate on school. Wouldn't have gone for my doctorate if I'd chosen that path."  
  
"And then how would we have met?" Quinn grinned crookedly.  
  
"Oh, I think we'd have gotten together somehow," Ian drawled. "I'd probably be coaching full-time. I can just see us meeting at a home game."  
  
Chalk, sweat, and Ian. Quinn instantly conjured the steamy scenario before him. He'd been to enough Skyhawks meets to picture Ian stalking the sidelines, this time as head coach.  
  
"I can, too, lad." Quinn's grin turned feral.  
  
Ian sat up to reach Quinn's lips and gave him the kiss he'd been craving. "Want to watch anymore?" he asked teasingly.  
  
Quinn turned off the TV with a decisive click, then got back to the important sport of the night -- kissing his lad.  
  
"Man, if kissing were an Olympic event, you'd win gold," Ian breathed.  
  
"Look who's talking." Quinn chuckled.  
  
Just watching Ian get up from the couch was a gymnastic treat, and Quinn followed him considerably less sinuously. They went to the kitchen to take care of Artoo and Sandy, then headed for the bathrooms.  
  
Ian was nude already when Quinn came into the bedroom. His skin gleaming in the glow of a single candle, he was Light personified to his husband's eyes.  
  
Ian sauntered forward to embrace Quinn, who was still in his polo shirt and shorts. He rubbed himself along soft cotton and hard muscle, feeling goosebumps form on his arms and legs.  
  
The heat of Ian's skin, even through clothing, had Quinn hard in a split-second. He kissed his lad, savoring the taste of the iced tea they'd shared earlier. Pushing his leg between Ian's, he gasped as he felt Ian harden against him.  
  
Moving back reluctantly, Ian pulled down his husband's shorts and underwear with one swift move and watched as Quinn kicked them away. He quickly regained lost ground as he pressed up against Quinn again. Kisses greeted his return as Quinn actually lifted him off the carpet in his eagerness.  
  
In a gymnastic move that Ian couldn't help but envy, Quinn pivoted to the bed and let him drop onto the mattress, then covered Ian with his own warmth. He smiled when he felt the tube of gel squishing under his arm.  
  
Ian made a sound between a chuckle and a groan when he realized Quinn's shirt was still on, its cotton teasing the hairs on his chest with every breath. He sneaked his hands under it to roam over Quinn's back and eased it up over broad shoulders.  
  
Quinn obliged him by raising his arms and pulling the shirt off the rest of the way. He finished quickly, mindful of his weight on Ian until he could brace himself on his elbows once more.  
  
Ah, finally skin to skin!  
  
Ian kissed him as if they'd been apart for a light-year. His hips somehow found a way to move, even under 6'4" of aroused husband. His erection found Quinn's, after a few slick tries, and he groaned into Quinn's mouth.  
  
"C'mon, c'mon!" Ian panted, desperately reaching for the berry gel.  
  
Quinn sat back and took the tube from Ian. He coated his lad thoroughly, then himself, and gazed at Ian as intently as if he were inside him already. Kissing the bridge of his husband's nose, in their own intimate ritual, Quinn was ready to go.  
  
Quinn pushed inside Ian with the ease of long practice, grunting as he slid home. Ian's eyes had fluttered closed from the intensity of his pleasure, and Quinn waited for them to open again so he could see the love in their blue depths.  
  
Ian's eyes pleaded with him to start thrusting now. His legs trembled with his desire to feel Quinn move deep within him.  
  
Quinn could never ignore his herven's ('husband' in Elvish) pleas, even unspoken, and let Ian's hips set the pace. He'd kept Ian waiting too long to satisfy him with a slow, even rhythm. His lad was out of control by now and wanted it fast, wanted it hard.  
  
Quinn took his husband in hand, the berry gel on his fingers blending with Ian's pre-come. His fingertips searched out Ian's hot spots, and he was rewarded by a low cry.  
  
Ian chanted "Qui" in one continuous prayer, meeting each thrust with the force of his own. He tried to hold off his orgasm, but Quinn's onslaught was too much for him. He came in ecstatic rushes into Quinn's hand and between their straining bodies.  
  
When Ian tightened around him, Quinn knew he was only a thrust away from orgasm himself. It didn't help that Ian's semen was the most potent aphrodisiac in the universe for Quinn. Its scent and feel powered his last explosive thrust. He shouted as he came, vaguely hearing Artoo yipping in the kitchen.  
  
Quinn dropped onto Ian sweaty and sated. He rested his head in the curve of Ian's neck and gulped in air.  
  
Quinn and Ian's private Olympics were over for tonight.


End file.
